Is he hurt? Did something happen to him? What if he got into trouble? Is he doing drugs? What if he’s drinking and driving? Not that he has his license yet but let’s be serious, I was sixteen once and so were you. No one cares about rules. At that age it’s a requirement to break them and to get into as much trouble as you possibly can.
As I turn onto the road leading to my house, I’m reminded of my jackass neighbor. I’d be lying if I didn’t wish Tommy was next door getting into trouble with my neighbor. I could handle that; a DUI not so much.
I remind myself I saw him leave with two girls nearly half his age and I take it back. The last thing I need is to find my baby exposed to that shit. I’ll wind up on the news, and in cuffs.
Pulling up to my house, I stop in the middle of the road and stare at the fancy sports car parked crookedly in my driveway. Instantly, anger boils in my veins as I recognize the car as the very same one the two girls got into when they left with captain dickhead. So, I watched them leave, big deal. In my defense, I wasn’t intentionally being nosey. I was simply holding out on hope that my neighbor would do the right thing and cut the two toddlers loose, but no such luck. They followed him out of the parking lot and apparently to my fucking driveway.
Making a quick U-turn, I park in between both houses and purposely block his driveway. That’s when I notice the second Harley in his driveway. Getting out of the car, I spot a man standing on my neighbor’s porch.
In the dark with only the porch lights as my aide, I study him, watching as he combs his fingers through his long, shaggy hair. Dressed all in black, with the reaper on his back, the badass biker pounds his fist against the front door.
“Open the door, Pipe,” he shouts.
The next second a speeding car turns onto the road and instinctively I brace myself for a gang war. The car stops short and I strain my ears over the commotion on the next porch to hear two boys shouting.
“Shit, isn’t that your mom?”
“Fuck, back up,” my son orders.
Surely every mother has thought about throttling their son, right? Tell me I’m right and I’m not losing my fucking mind.
“Dude, she sees us,” the friend says.
“Tommy, I’m going to count to three. If you’re not out of that car, so help me Jesus, I will pull you out,” I holler, stalking toward the car like a mad woman. “One.”
“Shit, Mama Dukes looks pissed as fuck.”
That’s the understatement of the year.
“Two.”
The door opens and Tommy stumbles out.
“I’ll catch you later, Steve.”
“Don’t hold your breath, Steve,” I say as I reach for my son. Grabbing a hold of his ear, I pull him down to my level and peer into the car. “Are you drunk?”
“No, ma’am.”
I hate teenagers.
“Ma, get off me!” Tommy says as he pulls out of my grasp and shrugs me off. A moment later, Steve reverses his car and I turn to my son. With his back toward me, he starts for the house like he’s done nothing wrong.
“You’re kidding me, right? Get your ass over here.”
“Why? So you can yell at me some more?”
“Yes, that’s exactly why! Where the hell were you?”
“Look, Jenna and Lexi were asleep when I left. I was only gone an hour.”
“Bullshit! You shouldn’t have left your sisters. God, Tommy, I left you in charge. I trusted you. I had to leave work early and lost an entire days pay because you’re irresponsible.”
“No, you don’t get it. Jenna and Lexi aren’t my responsibility. All I wanted was to be a normal sixteen-year-old, but since we moved up here I’ve become your babysitter!” he fires back, turning around to face me.
At a loss for words, I stare at him blankly. Guilt flows through my veins as I stare at my troubled child not sure how to make things right for either of us, and I wish for my mom. It doesn’t matter that I’m a grown woman who has made it this far with three kids, I need someone to tell me what to do. Someone to tell me what I’m doing wrong as a mother.
How did I fail this badly?
How do I fix it?
My son hates me. He resents me and I don’t know where to begin to fix it.
Without another word, he turns around and stomps toward the house. The door slams shut and I stand on the lawn feeling deflated.
It’s times like this when I wonder if I made the right choice. They say you shouldn’t stay in a bad marriage for the sake of the children, but how can one be so sure? I can’t understand how this is a better option. Divorce is a lot like death. There is no funeral but there is most definitely an afterlife and that is the scariest part.
It’s learning to live again.
It’s forgetting everything you know and everything you’re used to.
It’s like losing a limb.
It’s severing a piece of you and forcing the rest of you to carry on.
And the worst part of it all is knowing you don’t know how to move forward, and because you don’t, you can’t help your children move forward.
Maybe if I came to terms with my new life and actually embrace it, then maybe I won’t be so angry. So bitter. And if I’m happy then maybe my children will be too.
As I stand here wiping away my tears of defeat and stare up at my new beginning, I vow to be better. To be more.
As I climb the steps of my porch, the two whores stumble out of the house next door. One of them makes eye contact with me as she repositions her breast and crosses my lawn. Squaring my shoulders back, I cross my arms and watch them round the car.
“What’re you looking at?” the blonde sneers as she leans against the hood of the car.
“You’re parked in my driveway,” I tell her.
“What’s your point?”
“My point is move your fucking car or I’ll have it towed,” I growl.
“Isn’t it a little late to take the kiddies to soccer practice?” she questions, laughing.
Not today, Satan.
Not today.
“I’ve gotta pee,” the brunette whines.
Before I kill them both, I enter my house and force myself to forget the bullshit in my driveway. Tommy isn’t anywhere in sight and I find my daughters huddled together in my bed with a can of hairspray between them. Apparently, they were going to aerosol the shit out of any intruder.
By the time I answer everyone’s questions and get the girls to bed, I’m exhausted. Tommy never comes out of his room and I decide to let it be for the night. Tomorrow is another day.
A better day.
Tomorrow, I’m going to kick motherhood’s ass and make her my bitch.
Grabbing the first pair of pajamas I see, I make my way into the bathroom and stare at my reflection in the mirror. It’s no wonder why those two girls were laughing at me, I look like a hot mess. My hair that was styled perfectly when I left is now a frizzy disaster and my make-up has basically melted off.
Stripping down to my underwear, I wash my face and comb my hair. With a heavy sigh, I remove my bra and slip the silk camisole over my head. Next, I pull on the matching shorts and slide my arms through the sleeves of my robe. Tying the sash around my waist, I collect the dirty clothes from the floor and throw them in the hamper before I switch off the lights.
As I head to the living room, I remember about the nameless neighbor, the unfamiliar biker next door and the two girls on my lawn. Too exhausted to care what happens to any of them, I throw myself belly first onto the sofa. The second my body sinks into the cushions, a loud crash sounds from outside. Jumping to my feet, the noise sounds again and I dash for the front of the house. Swinging open the door, my eyes bulge as I stare in disbelief at the sports car attached to my Toyota.
The two sluts that were tripping over my lawn are now in front of my house. The blonde stumbles out of the driver’s seat and shouts at the brunette who is literally trying to separate the two cars.
“What are you doing?” blondie holle
rs.
“They’re stuck,” the other twit yells back.
The blonde climbs on top of the hood of her car and cups her hands around her mouth.
“Pipe,” she shouts, cursing as she hops from one bare foot to the other. “Ah, it’s hot,” she cries as my eyes drift downward to the smoke escaping the hood of her car.
This isn’t happening.
This is not fucking happening.
Anger engulfs me as I forget all about my own shoes and hurry down the steps toward the two bitches who ruined my car. My bare feet reach the grass and I slide, falling flat on my ass.
AGAIN.
Immediately, I hear them cackle at me as I brush the hair away from my face and stare daggers at them.
“Oh my God, she fell in the mud,” the brunette squeals.
“You stupid bitches,” I growl, scrambling to my feet. Fully aware I’m a mess, I carefully stalk through the mud and grass that tickles my ankles until I’m standing in front of them, gawking at my bumper that’s twisted like a fucking pretzel.
“You ruined my car,” I shriek.
The blonde follows my gaze and plops her half naked ass on the hood of the car. Burning her cheeks, she hisses in pain.
Stupid bitch.
“Mom?” I turn to glance over my shoulder and spot my son standing on the front porch. The anger he had for me earlier is gone and concern sweeps across his features as he takes in the scene before him.
“Go back in the house,” I order sternly.
“Hey there, handsome,” the brunette croons. “You lookin’ for a good time?”
My sanity flees and I see red as I spin around and lunge for the whore making a pass at my baby. However, before I can wrap my hands around her throat a pair of strong arms wrap around me and tug me back.
“Easy, killer,” a husky voice growls against my ear. Anger courses through me as I struggle to break free from his grasp, but he only strengthens his hold on me which causes both the blonde and the brunette to stare.
“I thought I told you two bitches to get gone,” he sneers as I continuously try to pry his fingers off me.
“Sandy left her shoes here,” the brunette mutters, pointing to the bitch still sitting on the hood of the car.
“Get your hands off my mother,” Tommy demands, rushing to stand in front of me. My son’s eyes are pinned to the man behind me and I feel his grip loosen. Quickly, I shove him away and grab Tommy, shoving him behind me as I peer up at my neighbor who had his hands all over me.
“Your friends ruined my car,” I shriek, waving my free hand at the two slobs.
He doesn’t answer me, nor does he acknowledge the girls who seem to be crying about the shoes they left behind. My eyes lower, taking in the span of his bare chest and I notice the ink that covers every inch of his exposed skin. Realizing I’m staring at him, I blink but he doesn’t move. He keeps his eyes pinned to me, then lifts his hand and scratches the scruff lining his jaw. Slowly, his gaze sweeps over the length of my body. I drop my son’s hand and pull the ends of my robe together. His tongue darts out of his mouth and wets his lips as he lifts his wandering eyes back to mine.
“Sandy left her shoes here,” the brunette mutters again.
Finally, he draws his attention to the chick pointing to the bitch still sitting on the hood of the car.
“Pipe, baby,” the blonde drawls.
“Mommy?” Lexi cries, forcing me to spin around and divert my attention to my two daughters standing outside the front door. Quickly, I turn to Tommy and place a hand on his cheek, forcing his attention away from the shirtless man he’s glaring at.
“Please take your sister’s inside,” I encourage.
“But, Mom—”
“Now, Tommy,” I cut him off. “I’m fine.”
Reluctantly, my son glances over at his sisters and to my relief, he starts for the house, pausing to size up the shirtless tattooed demon.
“Ain’t going to hurt your mother, boy,” the brute speaks as he steps around my son and saunters over to the connected cars.
His voice is just as rough as his appearance and resonates with me as I watch my son usher the girls into the house.
“I knew you weren’t done with us,” the blonde squeals.
“Bitch, done isn’t the word,” he growls as he pulls open the driver’s door to the dynamic duos car. “Get the fuck off the hood of the car before I send your ass flying,” he instructs as he slides his tall frame into the small car.
“But…my shoes…I left them in your house,” blondie pouts, crawling across the hood of the car. Without another word, the engine comes to life and the demon behind the wheel throws a pair of shoes out the passenger window.
“There are your fucking shoes,” he growls before throwing the car into drive.
My eyes go wide as he slams his foot on the gas and rolls forward. The cars disconnect, the blonde goes flying face first into the mud and my poor bumper hangs on by a thread.
“You’re an asshole,” the blonde hollers, wiping the mud from her eyes.
Finding the whole disaster amusing, the brunette cackles like a hyena and the demon removes himself from the car.
“Get the fuck out of here,” he sneers.
“Fuck you,” the blonde shrieks, rising to her feet. “You’re nothing but an old bastard who can’t get off,” she spits as she slips and slides making her way toward the driver seat.
Ignoring them as they get into the car, he steps around it and crosses his arms against his chest. Ten seconds later, the two bimbos take off and leave a trail of mud tracks in their wake. The demon turns to me and pierces me with those hypnotic eyes of his.
“You’re welcome,” he grunts as he drops his gaze and blatantly stares at my tits.
Completely baffled, I cross my arms and glare back at him.
“You’re fucking kidding me, right?” I shout incredulously as he ignores me and turns back toward the house next to mine. My lips part and I watch him saunter across the lawn without another word.
“What about my car?” I call out as he reaches his porch.
He pauses for a beat before turning to look at me over his shoulder.
“It’s blocking my driveway,” he says finally then turns back and climbs the last step.
Balling my fists at my sides, the blood boils in my veins and I see red as he slams the door shut.
That afterlife I was talking about?
It sucks.
Especially when you add a dickhead neighbor.
A handsome dickhead, but still a fucking dickhead.
Chapter Twelve
Feeling like I’ve been hit by a Mack truck, I roll out of bed. The scent of cheap perfume lingers in the air, reminding me of the night before and the two dumb bitches I took home with me. As if the girls weren’t enough, I also remember Blackie showing up on my doorstep too. Pushing the pathetic scene out of my head, I grab my jeans from the floor and throw a wrinkled tank over my head before I start for the kitchen. I pull the each cabinet open and frantically search for a can of coffee. Of course, there isn’t anything but a can of beans and an expired box of baking soda.
Desperate for coffee and feeling as if my head is going to explode, I grab my keys from the counter and pull open the front door. The sun fucks with me some and I cover my eyes with my hands.
“Fuck,” I growl, forcing my eyes to get used to the sunlight. Shuffling down the stairs, I cross my lawn and spot the car blocking my driveway as I’m hit with another fucking reminder from the night before. Getting rid of the blonde and the brunette wasn’t as easy as it should’ve been. The stupid cunt slammed into Layla’s car and by the looks of it she didn’t just tear the fucking bumper off. The goddamn radiator is leaking too.
Turning my attention to the house next to mine, the memory of Layla lunging for the two bimbos flashes before me.
“Fucking hell,” I mutter, running my fingers through my hair. Recalling the way her son came out of the house to defend her makes me feel like a re
al piece of shit. I don’t know much about the woman next door or her kids, but I gather she doesn’t need my bullshit bleeding into her life. Since she’s moved in, I’ve given her nothing but shit, and now we can add a fucking wrecked car to the list.
I may be a self-destructive asshole but it’s never been my intention to bring innocent people into my personal hell. As much as it would be easier to ignore my actions and the repercussion of them, I can’t. There is still a sliver of humanity buried inside of me. Latching onto that, I drag my ass across the lawn and knock on her door repeatedly.
After several attempts, it swings open and my gaze travels downward to the pipsqueak staring up at me like I’m the big bad wolf.
Great.
“Uh, hey, kid,” I start. Uncomfortable, I run my fingers through my hair as a pair of big brown eyes level me.
“You’re the man who broke our car,” she says, shaking her little finger at me. Not only is the little pipsqueak a spitting image of her mama, but she has her sass too.
“I didn’t break your mom’s car,” I correct.
“But Tommy said—”
“Look, kid,” I say impatiently, cutting her off. Not really looking to go head to head with some little half-pint, I peek inside the house.
“Is your mom or dad home?” I ask, pausing as I realize I have no idea if Layla has a husband or not. Her son was quick to man up but that doesn’t mean his father isn’t in the picture. For all I know he could be enlisted or traveling for work and has left her by herself to take care of the kids. That would be some shit considering all the bickering she and I have been doing. It doesn’t help that I’ve been thinking about that wicked mouth of hers either.
Shit.
Huffing, the little one crosses her arms against her chest and rolls her eyes dramatically.
“We don’t live with Daddy anymore. He and Mommy are divorced,” she reveals, uncrossing her tiny arms as she plants her hands on her hips and angles her head. “Dad is living in our old house which sucks. Shit, don’t tell my mom I said sucks. She gets all pissy when I curse, but it’s not really a curse, right? I mean you should hear some of the things that come out of my mom’s mouth.”
From the Ruins Page 10